


Maiestas

by JayofDiamonds



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Roman-inspired sci-fi setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayofDiamonds/pseuds/JayofDiamonds
Summary: “Jinyoung and I knew each other as boys. He nipped at my heels like a puppy, hung on my every word and copied my every move. He is a follower, not a leader. Certainly not fit to be the next emperor. I am the next emperor.”Jinyoung, the emperor’s nephew, is being brought to live in the city, and rumours swirl that he will replace Jaebum as the emperor’s heir apparent. Whether this is true or not, Jaebum cannot accept Jinyoung’s presence in his city.





	1. Portent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taecyeon brings Jaebum news of a new arrival expected in the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! please enjoy chapter one! :)

It is a dark morning over the glowing city, and just as a storm rolls in from the east, Taecyeon brings Jaebum unwelcome news. Already in a foul mood, Jaebum dodges the extended hands of men looking to brown-nose as the senate spills out into the damp air of the city. Taecyeon catches him on the steps of the Senate House, uniform crisp and boots gleaming with the colourful neon lights of the forum.

“Jaebum,” Taecyeon calls, face drawn as he stands among the senators dawdling to argue on the stairs.

Suppressing a sigh, Jaebum weaves his way over. Taecyeon wouldn’t show up here to see him without a pressing reason, and he’s tolerable enough of a man that Jaebum is willing to risk a conversation. Well-disciplined and straight forward, a military man, far more desirable to linger with than any of the greedy old politicians that surround them.

“Be well,” Taecyeon greets him when they meet, bowing his head politely.

“Taecyeon, be well,” Jaebum replies, returning the gesture.

“Are you staying long in the forum?”

“Not in this weather,” Jaebum says, nodding upwards to the deepening purple grey of the sky. “I’m for the palace, why? Do you have news for me?”

Glacing carefully about, Taecyeon falls into step beside Jaebum, the garishly multi-coloured lights of a nearby monument flashing wetly on his lean cheek. “I’ll accompany you there.”

Behind them, Jaebum’s guard follows them quietly out of the forum into the street. Taecyeon guides them towards the quieter path to the imperial palace, along a street lined with minor cult temples, each painted in tacky oranges and blues and purples. Some of the grander ones sport vivid neon tubing curling into godly shapes in the pediment, and accentuating the painted marble figures atop their roofs.

“I have news from the emperor,” Taecyeon says when they’ve walked together in silence far enough from any throngs of midday worshippers. “It’s not… something he asked me to tell you, but information he shared with me, that I think you should know.”

“What could he want to keep from me?”

“The emperor is bringing his nephew to live in the palace.”

Jaebum raises an eyebrow, glancing over at Taecyeon. “This is news?”

“The emperor’s nephew, named for him, who has been living and studying in the countryside,” Taecyeon continues slowly, as if Jaebum will glean some deeper meaning from his words.

“Many men are named for the emperor.”

“He will be taking the other suite of rooms on the same floors as you.”

“The top four floors are for imperial family only,” Jaebum says in confusion. “He is family, but not… surely he would be on the floors below me?”

“No, the emperor was quite clear to the staff. Think, Jaebum,” Taecyeon implores, fixing Jaebum with a deathly serious look. “The emperor’s blood nephew, who has lived quite contentedly in the country his whole life. Why would the emperor bring him here, to live in the capital?”

Jaebum’s feet slow to a stop, body suddenly awash with cold horror. “He could… Is the emperor… Am I staying in my quarters?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Taecyeon says easily, stopping and turning, face calm and unsympathetic. “I was under the impression the emperor is simply… hedging his bets.”

“I’ve been raised as his heir since I was seven years old! Isn’t it too late to change his mind? The entire city knows me as the heir, not Jinyoung!” Jaebum cries, brow darkening in anger.

“That is exactly why Jinyoung is being brought to live here. For him to see how things are done here in the city, and for him to be seen. The emperor is trying to establish a stable dynasty, and having a hotheaded and disinterested hier is making that extremely difficult,” Taecyeon says sharply, eyes piercing.

Desperate not to go even further to prove Taecyeon right, Jaebum grits his teeth and curls his hands into tight fists against the heat of anger flaring up in his chest. He focuses on the pressure in his jaw and the strain in his knuckles, not willing to let go of the anger. He wants to feel angry, he deserves to feel angry, now as he is being told the emperor is looking to replace Jaebum as his heir. If he doesn’t let the anger grow, it could easily give way to weaker emotions, sorrow, self-pity, and Jaebum would rather burn himself in anger than allow himself to feel that way.

“I didn’t want to see you react this way if the emperor told you this,” Taecyeon continues, watching Jaebum fume with a heavy-browed frown, “which is why I decided to go ahead and tell you myself. School your reactions Jaebum, don’t fuel his doubts. And don’t… do anything foolish. Jinyoung’s mother’s family is close to mine. You would not have as much support as you might like if you were to make this into an issue.”

Jaebum understands, and the cold betrayal of Taecyeon’s veiled threat shoots down his spine. “What did the emperor say about me?”

“You are too quick to anger. You were far too eager and overbearing when you were younger, but now you have become withdrawn and indifferent. And you lack balance.”

“But little Jinyoungie is even-tempered and well-adjusted?” Jaebum snaps, feeling his anger settle comfortably on a target, sharpened and focused. Before Taecyeon can voice any arguments, Jaebum raises his hand impatiently to stay him. “Of course I know the Jinyoung you mean, we studied together as boys. He nipped at my heels like a puppy, hung on my every word and copied my every move. He is a follower, not a leader. Certainly not an emperor.”

Pulling his jacket to billow dramatically after him, Jaebum continues along the path to the palace. Though he doesn’t hear his quiet steps, Jaebum knows his guard follows dutifully, and some distance later Taecyeon catches up, long legs overtaking Jaebum easily and falling into step beside him again.

Taecyeon watches Jaebum out of the corner of his eye, unimpressed with his outbursts and not bothering to hide it. “Like you, Jinyoung was a rash and impressionable boy, one who has changed as he grew into a man. The emperor looks upon his character now with great favour.”

It goes unsaid, but Jaebum hears the implication of Taecyeon’s words loud and clear. The emperor does not look upon Jaebum’s character with the same favour. Jaebum may be hot-headed, but his mind is sharp, and he reigns in his anger as Taecyeon had advised, at least for now. It burns still in his chest like an everlasting fire, and in the deepest part of the flames now sits a sweet round-faced boy Jaebum once knew.

“Thank you for warning me,” Jaebum says, forcing his voice to be level and civil. “I’ll take what you’ve told me into advisement.”

“You’re welcome,” Taecyeon replies pointedly. “I’m sure if it were up to the emperor, you wouldn’t know of Jinyoung’s arrival until you ran into him in the halls at the palace. He’s arriving tomorrow.”

“Of course he is,” Jaebum mutters under his breath, silently retracting his thanks. Honestly, Taecyeon couldn’t have told him any earlier?

It wouldn’t do to discuss it further, Jaebum knows that too much more could easily be stepping into treasonous territory, to question the emperor so openly. They would both be foolish to continue such a line of conversation with Jaebum’s guard only a step behind them. Sungjin is tasked with protecting Jaebum’s life, but his loyalty lies unfalteringly with the emperor. And as it stands, Jaebum finds greater comfort in silently wallowing in his brewing anger than responding to any of Taecyeon’s comments on what the weather may portend.

Up ahead, the entrance of the palace comes into view, and Taecyeon slows, turning to Jaebum. Trying to keep his gaze cold, free of the anger simmering in his chest, Jaebum turns to bid Taecyeon farewell.

“I’m for the training grounds then. It was good to see you,” Taecyeon says. “Go in peace, Jaebum.”

“Taecyeon, go in peace,” Jaebum rattles off robotically, before continuing on his way with long strides, wary of the heavy clouds and the storm hanging over him.

The glittering palace ahead pierces the sky, extending up into the clouds far above the rest of the city. Its intricately wrought facade spans the fat and imposing base of the building for several floors, a display of impeccable craftsmanship and exquisite design unmistakable as the home of the emperor in the city. On each side, twin lifts shoot up and down in their glass chutes, bolts of light cleaving down the middle of the building.

Jaebum has lived in the palace since he was fifteen, and barely spares it a glance when he walks into the ground floor concourse. Followed by his guard, he makes his way to the private lift that will take him up to his quarters, channeling all his burning energy into putting one foot in front of the other. His fists are curled, white-knuckled, at his sides, and his head hangs low in thought.

The palace once struck Jaebum with chest-shattering pride whenever he caught sight of it towering imperiously over the rest of the city, that this power would one day be his, that the legacy this building represents had been laid upon his shoulders. He no longer feels anything for this building full of people and things, and he can’t even bring himself to mourn for the loss of this passion and ambition. Few things these days spark anything in Jaebum that isn’t frustration, or anger. While he is relieved to no longer feel the frenzied confusion of adolescence, sometimes Jaebum wonders if he is still just as lost. No longer jostled by the blazing sights and conflicting thoughts of the city, but adrift on a dark sea of mindless bustle and chatter he can no longer hear or care for.

This news of Jinyoung is like a hand from the depths pulling Jaebum back down into the murky water of teenage pride and righteousness. His mind feels clogged with mud and seaweed, pulling him towards vile emotions he never associated with Jinyoung before. Jinyoung has lived in Jaebum’s memory forever, frozen peacefully in the time they spent together as boys, growing up side by side in the countryside. His round boyish face glows with adoration before green pastures, his clever eyes glint with mischief across their readings. Though the exact moments have faded with time away, Jaebum can still hold the image of Jinyoung in his mind, fattened pink cheeks pulled up in a smile, eyes curving closed, hands clutching at Jaebum’s arm in excitement. Chasing him through the fields between their family’s villas, the white fabric across his back as Jaebum reaches his hand out to grasp it, their laughter ringing out in harmony.

The green fields reappear in Jaebum’s mind now, grass matted and streaked with the unclean dirt of the city, polluted by the clamour of too many people with too much greed. Jaebum can no longer find the place that brought him such peaceful nostalgia. And Jinyoung is gone. He lives now amid the flames of Jaebum’s anger, the smooth pit in the centre of the fruit that has just now ripened, on the edge of swelling past fat and rotting into unchangeable hatred. Jaebum hates Jinyoung, with a sudden violent fury that sets his limbs abuzz, desperate to ruin and destroy.

The private lift shoots up to the 130th floor, and Jaebum turns with eyes unseeing to the city flickering by, its bright lights trying valiantly to cut through the gloom the storm has brought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading so far! I hope to keep working on this and keep it updating regularly, so please let me know what you liked or if there was anything confusing! I'm on twitter too, also as JayofDiamonds! See you next chapter I hope! :)


	2. Grapevine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum prepares to receive Jinyoung, and Wooyoung brings him more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! life, you know?

The next morning comes quietly, and Jaebum wakes late. He’d canceled his dinner plans the evening before, not able to bear the idea of going out and being seen. He lies awake in bed, mind blank, eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling for what seems like hours before he rouses himself. Opening the blackout curtains doesn’t provide much light, only the residual glow of the city down below. The dark clouds of the storm hanging over the city darken the daylight into a gloom indiscernible from night.

The realization that Jinyoung is arriving today finally catches up with Jaebum as he watches the multi-coloured lights of the city move below him. He wishes it would rain already, for the lights and sounds and bustle of the city to be muted by the power of the weather.

Slowly, Jaebum dresses himself, leaving the lights off in his quarters. It feels like the darkness is murky enough to stay his movements, making his limbs sluggish and bumbling.

On his bedside table, his sleek personal tablet lights up with a message from Mark.

_I hear your replacement is arriving today._

In a flash of anger Jaebum shoves the tablet off the table onto his unmade bed, where it falls with an unsatisfying quiet noise, undamaged. Curling his hands into fists, Jaebum resists the urge to hurl it at something, focusing instead on getting a shirt on. The last thing Jaebum needs is to let his anger explode into violent actions, to keep indulging himself in outbursts of destruction.

So he suppresses the anger, the heat of it sliding down his spine as he pushes it down into his stomach to simmer. With a carefully controlled hand he turns over the tablet. Another message from Mark.

_At least put some thought into what you’re wearing if you’re going out today._

Self-consciously, Jaebum glances around the sprawling expanse of his bedroom like he’ll find Mark standing there giving him a judgemental look in person. He pulls off the casual lounge wear he’d pulled on earlier. Mark’s right of course, now more than ever Jaebum should be hyper-aware of how he presents himself whenever he steps out in public. With Jinyoung around, every move, every choice, every word from either of them will be compared and sized up against the other. Jaebum doesn’t want to be found lacking.

And somewhere deep down, Jaebum knows the person he most wants to prove himself to is Jinyoung. To show Jinyoung that that his presence here is unnecessary, that Jaebum has outgrown him, and the memories they shared. In his mind, the memories try to renew themselves constantly, cleansing themselves of the grime and soot of his newly-kindled fury, the fields flourish green again, the wind ruffles their hair, the day shines brightly. When Jaebum pushes the anger down, Jinyoung’s childish face, wild and happy, claws at his heart, and the hatred returns. How easily the boyish love he felt for Jinyoung turns to hate, as if the feeling are one and the same, strong and powerful. The love he once had feeds the hatred like dry grass feeds a fire.

Jaebum resolves to let his anger simmer, burn deep and long like coals. This hatred can drive him, and he wants it to. It is anger or nothing, but he cannot allow himself to lose his temper again. Not when the stakes are so high. Unlike Taecyeon, Jaebum knows Mark’s loyalties lie solely with him. But it would be foolish of even someone as close to Jaebum as Mark to risk his position in the senate if Jaebum did anything unforgivable.

So for the benefit of Mark, and the few others that still believe in him, Jaebum huffs a sigh and changes his clothes. Although if Jaebum’s honest, it’s mostly for Jinyoung’s benefit. When he was first appointed, wearing the traditional senatorial garb made Jaebum feel as powerful as a god, the streak of purple adorning his jacket painted on like the blessed blood of sacrifice in his honour. The novelty has long since worn off, the gold ring heavy on his finger denoting nothing but his confinement in a fraternity of fools. Every senate meeting filled with old men who only have their own interests at heart seems to dirty the tokens of senatorial rank Jaebum once thought of so highly. Though he had always scorned the old men who filled the senate, when Jaebum first arrived in the city he was full of youthful vigour and fresh hope, thinking he could make a mark and change the ways of the senate. Thinking back now, Jaebum feels a curl of humiliation in his stomach. A fraternity of fools he surely belonged in.

But Jaebum is not ignorant to the power the senatorial garb still holds, what it says to people who see him wearing it, even if he himself has grown deaf to it. He wants to show Jinyoung how far he has come. How far he has come without Jinyoung at his side. When Jinyoung sees Jaebum now, older, sharper, a man of the city and of the senate, a consul and the emperor’s first choice in hier, he will see how different they truly are. How much higher Jaebum has flown without Jinyoung weighing him down. And some small part of Jaebum wonders if Jinyoung will be proud of him, of this man he has become.

Jaebum is distracted from his thoughts by the airy swish of the pneumatic door to the rest of his quarters opening. A palace servant stands on the other side, head bowed politely.

“Wooyoung-ssi requests your presence in the Platinum Lounge as soon as possible.”

“I’ll need something to eat there,” Jaebum replies, slipping his ring on and fixing his watch.

“Of course,” the servant replies and disappears with another huff of air as the door slides shut.

With careful slowness, Jaebum moves into his adjoining bathroom, turning the clear overhead light on. Wouldn’t want to look too obliging. Jaebum’s sure Wooyoung has some more news from the emperor, although whether it’s good news or bad news, he’s unsure.

In the mirror above the sink, Jaebum stares back at himself, pallid and sombre. The stark white light of the bathroom is deeply unflattering, highlighting the discoloured skin under his eyes, the puffiness of his face from sleep. For years now Jaebum has looked into the mirror and sworn he’s gotten a little fatter than the last time he looked, fed and fattened like an animal for slaughter by the rich imported foods of the city.

Jaebum ruffles his black hair out of his eyes, running his hands through it to untangle it. It’s getting a bit long, but he can’t be bothered lately with getting it cut. The eyes reflected there in his face are dark and glassy, unfamiliar to Jaebum though he sees them every day. A headache sits above his brow like the storm brewing outside. He downs a couple pills for it with a gulp of water from the tap, and leaves the bathroom.

On his way out, Jaebum checks his message log with Mark on his watch screen, feet moving through his quarters towards the lift automatically. Mark had called Jinyoung Jaebum’s “replacement”.

_My replacement?_ Jaebum types back.

Is that truly what Jinyoung is meant to be? As much as Jaebum had dove head first into that swirling pool of anger and hatred, the emperor has not made his intentions as clear as he could. The emperor is going away soon to the provinces, but he has made no moves yet to uninstall Jaebum from his position. But perhaps that is what Wooyoung will be telling him.

The Platinum Lounge is on the 100th floor of the palace, limited to the emperor’s inner circle. Wooyoung is waiting for Jaebum in a secluded corner of the otherwise deserted floor, away from the windows overlooking the darkened city. His hair is spiked up in a style the emperor favoured when he was younger, somewhat out of fashion now, and he types lazily on his tablet as Jaebum approaches.

“Wooyoung, be well,” Jaebum greets, sliding into the plush red chair across from Wooyoung.

“Mm, Jaebum, be well,” Wooyoung replies, gaze still locked on his tablet.

Rolling his eyes, Jaebum simply pulls the bowl of fruit on the table closer to him and trails his fingers carefully over the oranges and grapes. A server brings him a plate of bread with honey.

“As you know the emperor will be away from the city for a length of time,” Wooyoung starts suddenly, setting his tablet down with a clatter on the table. “In his absence he wants you to welcome his nephew to the palace, and the city.”

“What?” Jaebum nearly barks out in response, irritation bubbling up. He tears into the rind of the orange he picked out, pulling the mottled skin back to reveal its deeply purple-red innards.

“The emperor’s nephew, named for him, Park Jinyoung, is coming to stay in the city, in the palace. He’s too busy preparing for his trip to properly welcome his nephew later today, so he wants you to be there to greet him,” Wooyoung explains, reaching across the table and stealing a piece of Jaebum’s bread. “And beyond that, the emperor wants you to show him the city, make sure the senators don’t hassle him too much, you know.”

“The emperor has not made his intentions clear beyond that?” Jaebum asks, choosing his words carefully.

Wooyoung watches Jaebum with sharp eyes, silent as he tears a piece of bread and dips it into the honey. It drips onto the table on the way back to his mouth, sticky and golden. Jaebum prickles with impatience. Finally, Wooyoung swallows, wipes his hands, and replies.

“Park Jinyoung… the Younger, I guess we’d better get used to calling him, is not coming to the city for some quick visit. The emperor has plans for his political career.”

“What plans?”

“I wasn’t finished,” Wooyoung says sharply, unimpressed. “When the emperor’s term as consul is over, which will be in a couple months I believe, his nephew will be taking over the post. The position is of no particular consequence for the emperor to hold, but as the other consul yourself, I’m sure you understand the honour and responsibility that will be placed on this young man’s shoulders. Your own term won’t be up for a good while, so you’ll be seeing quite a bit of the emperor’s nephew.”

Not wanting to act rashly again, Jaebum tears a piece of soft bread away from the roll and runs it thoughtlessly through the honey, soaking it and stickying his fingers.

It seems to Jaebum like Wooyoung is still talking around certain key pieces of information. The news of Jinyoung being appointed as the next consul isn’t damning, and it’s certainly no confirmation of what Taecyeon had been implying yesterday. Though the position of consul is a powerful one, and one given to Jaebum because he is the emperor’s hier, it is simply a political office. Any man in the emperor’s favour could hope of being appointed consul when the position lies empty. Only Jaebum has been selected and raised to be the next emperor.

Wooyoung has returned to his tablet, spread with ease across his chair, and Jaebum absently checks his watch to find two messages from Mark.

_Isn’t that why Park Jinyoung is being brought here?_

_Everyone’s been talking, making up thousands of possible reasons. I figured either you’ve fallen out of favour with the emperor, or he’s looking to marry you into the family too._

Jaebum can’t help the thrill of discomfort that runs through him at the thought of marriage, his newfound and still foreign hatred for Jinyoung incongruent with any notions of harmony and cooperation that tug at his memory. Mark had suggested Jinyoung being his replacement first, so Jaebum can only assume it is the foremost rumour on the lips of the nation.

“And when the emperor returns?” Jaebum asks suddenly, barely thought out, needing to get as much information out of Wooyoung as he can. “Are there… further plans?”

With a sigh, almost pitying in tone, Wooyoung stands slowly, tucking his tablet against his chest. “I believe the emperor has further plans yes. He wants his nephew to shadow him for an extended period of time, maybe accompany him on his next trip to the provinces. Be involved in several city planning projects, get his name out there, that sort of thing.”

Wooyoung knows what he says as well as Jaebum does, a cold shock overtaking his limbs at the familiarity of these plans. The same strategy had been used to introduce Jaebum to the nation when he first moved to the city and entered politics. When he was first named hier.

“But for now, Jaebum,” Wooyoung pauses, gaze intent, like he’s waiting for Jaebum to be paying proper attention, “focus on the present. Nothing is carved in stone. I need to go, you’ll be alerted when Park Jinyoung’s party arrives. The emperor’s private lobby. Bambam will be there. Go in peace.”

Jaebum nods and waves him off. “Wooyoung, go in peace.”

And then Jaebum is alone, facing the dim corner of the lounge with the rest of the room behind him. Indefensible. His hand hangs off the edge of his chair limply, still sticky from honey. The uncertainty of his situation infuriates him, and the smear of sweet honey on his fingertips makes him feel gluttonous and repulsive, his anger rising in his throat from deep in his stomach. The table is littered with crumbs, drips of honey, the discarded rind of the orange Jaebum ate. It was a simple repast, barely any food at all, yet the sight makes him sick with anger.

Though he keeps it deep within him, Jaebum can’t help but think it is cowardly of the emperor to not make his intentions clear. It would be treasonous to say such a thing aloud, but Jaebum takes comfort in the embers of his anger burning so secretly inside him, despite the dizzying stomach-ache that accompanies them.

Leaving the table, Jaebum slips into the nearby washroom and scrubs his hands until they are raw and red, avoiding the sight of himself in the mirror. And then he waits, for Jinyoung. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now I know I told some people in the comments that Jinyoung would show up in this chapter, and I truly expected him to... but I had to sit down and do some Proper Planning for the story after I posted chapter 1, so Jinyoung's arrival is delayed until chapter 3 to keep chapter lengths more even! promise he really is showing up next time, and hopefully I will be updating sooner this time! Thank you for reading!!


	3. Advent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinyoung arrives in the city, along with his companion, Jackson. Jaebum greets them, assisted by Bambam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let’s get some Jinyoung up in here already!!

By the time Jinyoung and his companions are due to arrive, the heavens have finally broken open, and rain pounds down upon the city with a reassuring force. From the Platinum Lounge on the 100th floor, Jaebum looks down on the glow of the city through the wet gloom. He’s relocated since Wooyoung left, now draped across an armchair by the windows, his fifth drink in his hand. Anything to keep his body and mind occupied. The alcohol warms him like he’s floating in it, the flame of his anger flickering on its surface, fixed and comforting.

Jaebum’s watch lets out a soft _ding!_ and he brings his wrist up lazily to check the notification. There’s nothing else from Mark, since Jaebum ignored his last messages. It’s a message from Bambam.

_Where are you?? The party’s arriving soon, get down here!_

The lounge is a little more crowded now, so Jaebum holds back a scoff at Bambam’s usual disrespectful tone and simply rolls his eyes. For the benefit of anyone watching him, he knocks the rest of his drink back with a forced ease, standing slowly and savouring the burn in his throat. Dread curdles his stomach as the lift shoots him down to meet his fate with unbearable speed.

The emperor’s private lobby is even more opulent than the main concourse in the palace, a place for only the most esteemed guests. The carpeting is richly red, and every column and cornice is painted boldly in blues and purples and peachy oranges, gold leaf glinting out of every coil carved into the marble. Even with the grim weather darkening the world outside, the lobby is as blindingly bright as the rest of the city.

A balcony overhangs the lobby, with a grand staircase leading down from it, and this is where Jaebum finds Bambam, waiting for him with his hip cocked out and eyebrow raised in impatience.

“You look _terrible_ ,” Bambam says with a critical glance up and down Jaebum’s body.

Jaebum sneers. “Would it kill you to greet me properly for once, runt?”

“Would it kill you to…” Bambam wrinkles his nose, “I don’t know, get some sun? Drink some water? _Sleep_?”

“Shut up. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone important today,” Jaebum replies snidely.

Ignoring the unsubtle jab at him, Bambam simply rolls his eyes. “Well, aren’t you in a particularly foul mood today? Can’t say I’m surprised, considering the very unimportant person you’re meeting today.”

“Is he here yet?” Jaebum turns away from Bambam to look down at the neat line of servants in the lobby. Forcing a semblance of calm, Jaebum tucks his hands carefully into the pockets of his trousers, taking up a casual stance. The alcohol seems to do nothing to dull his nerves, rather changing their nature, making Jaebum feel as if his body is abuzz with fear.

“They’re just making their way in,” Bambam says, leaning his back against the railing beside Jaebum and giving him another close look. “Have you been drinking?”

Besides a momentary scowl, Jaebum ignores Bambam, eyes trained on the glass doors at the other end of the lobby. It’s dark out, rain still pelting down like the sky will fall. Suddenly the line of servants inside the lobby surge forward as one towards the doors, and they open.

Bambam turns around to watch with Jaebum as Jinyoung’s party is shown into the private lobby. Jaebum can’t tell the bodies apart at such a distance, still wrapped up in outerwear against the downpour outside, caught in the chaos of dutiful servants and palace guards escorting them in. He tries to rein in the desperation he feels as his eyes strain to pick Jinyoung out of the throng of people, hands curling into tense fists where they’re hidden in his pockets. His heart feels sluggish, like it’s swelling up and choking him.

“Who’s come with him?” Jaebum asks Bambam lowly, without looking away from the gaggle of servants helping them inside. The party is smaller than he would have expected for someone the emperor is hoping to enstate as hier, but Jinyoung had always been reluctant to make other friends. The thought makes Jaebum’s stomach turn, having to dredge through the muck polluting Jinyoung’s presence in his mind to find the memory of Jinyoung as a boy, clinging shyly to Jaebum when they were forced to greet guests. Now as Jaebum stands searching for Jinyoung below him, body tense as a drawn bowstring, he feels the ghost of Jinyoung’s body behind his, nervous fingers on his arm. He tries not to find comfort in the feeling.

“Surprisingly, he traveled without servants, or a guard,” Bambam answers after checking his tablet, leaning his elbows against the railing and not disguising his interest in the crowd. “Perhaps Park Jinyoung is not used to his new status. The only one with him is his companion, Wang Jackson.”

“His companion?”

Bambam shrugs casually, shoulders sharp in his tailored jacket. “That’s what I was told. Oh, that’s him, in the brown fur.”

Without shame, Bambam points down at a man now separating from the crowd, his great fur coat darkened by water being pulled off to reveal deep red travelling clothes. His smile is wide and charming, brown hair wet from the rain. Jaebum can’t help the small sneer that crosses his face, a sour taste in his mouth at the sight of this disarmingly handsome man. Jinyoung’s companion.

“And that’s Park Jinyoung,” Bambam says, pointing again, and finally Jaebum catches sight of Jinyoung. Distantly, he knows Bambam continues talking, but he doesn’t hear him.

Jinyoung is both the same as he once was, and worlds different. It seems impossible to describe, and Jaebum’s mind feels blank, face lax in awe as he soaks Jinyoung in. How long has it been since they last saw each other? So many times Jaebum had banished Jinyoung from his mind, so many times he had forbade himself to think on such sweet memories, it is as if Jinyoung is something returned to life from the dead. If nothing else, it is clear Jinyoung is now a man. The shape of him is different, taller maybe, broader maybe, but the picture of Jinyoung in boyhood always been measured by Jaebum there beside him. There is no way to measure Jinyoung now, standing alone. From across the hall, Jaebum feels the distance keenly.

The servants are helping Jinyoung out of his wet travelling clothes, and as Jaebum watches, he seems to be searching the hall with his gaze, eyes wide with a familiar curiousity. He brushes his damp hair off his forehead, offering shallow polite bows to the servants. They seem quite put off by his odd country behaviour, unused to being bowed towards, and scuttle around him nervously. But Jaebum can see nothing but a blur of movement, gaze fixed on Jinyoung’s face. It hurts Jaebum to see Jinyoung so changed, without him there to have witnessed it. To think Jinyoung had bloomed into this striking man without Jaebum.

It is difficult for Jaebum to remember that Jinyoung is not his own creation. When Jaebum had left him, Jinyoung was nothing but clay, soft and malleable, a model to one day be transformed into marble. Sometime while they were apart, the clay facsimile had been completed, and in its place stands a beautifully sculpted marble statue. All without Jaebum. Yet the statue is still achingly recognizable, Jinyoung’s body and face adorned with enough vestiges of his boyhood self to pull at Jaebum’s resistant heart.

Bambam is tugging at his arm, saying something Jaebum cannot hear, and begins to steer him down the stairs into the lobby. This isn’t something Jaebum can stop. It feels like Jinyoung is pulling him into orbit, Jaebum’s feet take him towards Jinyoung like the tide throws itself upon the shore. But it is all too quick, and Jaebum wants to turn and run, far from Jinyoung and this city and whatever it turned him into. His heart feels like lead, barely beating in the open wound of his chest, exposed for Jinyoung to pick over.

And when Jinyoung turns and catches sight of Jaebum on the stair, his face lights up. It’s so deeply unsettling Jaebum almost stumbles down the last few steps, dizzy with conflicting emotions. How can Jinyoung look so happy to see Jaebum? The look in his wide brown eyes is so painfully familiar from their past, but Jaebum has torn him from that tapestry in his mind. Jinyoung’s smile is radiant, boyish and excited, so open and full of emotion, all for seeing Jaebum again.

Gently brushing aside the hands of the servants still tending to his wet clothes, Jinyoung steps towards Jaebum, parting the crowd of people like the sun parts the clouds. Still beaming, his gaze is fixed on Jaebum, like the rest of the room has melted away for him too. His steps are muffled by the carpeting as he makes his way over to Jaebum, so quickly that Jaebum knows his face is still frozen.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says, slowing to a stop before them. His voice is richer, deeper, and Jaebum wonders offhandedly if he’s gotten any better at disguising his country accent.

Though his mind races with thoughts, Jaebum keeps his body still, hands left in his pockets. The bustle of the servants dies down, and an oppressive silence falls over them. Jinyoung is still looking hopefully into Jaebum’s face, and Bambam clearly expects him to do the talking. It isn’t until Jackson steps up beside Jinyoung that Bambam finally realizes the silence has been dragging on too long. The crowd of servants stand attentively by, watching the four of them. If anything goes amiss, the news will spread quickly.

“The emperor extends his welcome!” Bambam turns to Jinyoung and Jackson with a smile, trying to brush away any awkwardness with professionalism. “We’re thankful the weather didn’t delay your journey.”

As Jaebum watches, Jinyoung’s smile slips slowly from his face, meeting Jaebum’s gaze with a look of confusion.

“Nothing to be done about it,” Jackson replies agreeably. “We traveled well despite it!”

Encouraging him forward, Jackson brings a hand up behind Jinyoung, into his space, and no doubt resting it against the small of his back. Jaebum watches him move with cold eyes, and Jinyoung allows Jackson’s touch without flinching. If anything, he curls slightly towards Jackson as if he finds his presence comforting.

“It is an honour to be invited to stay at the palace,” Jinyoung speaks then, pronouncing each word carefully, eyes wavering between Jaebum and Bambam. “I look forward to seeing the city and becoming acquainted with it. I hope I won’t disappoint.”

“I’ll escort you to your quarters now, so you can rest after your trip here,” Bambam says, still smiling, and stepping back to get them all moving towards the lifts. “Tomorrow, if you like, you can be shown around some parts of the city. The emperor has already seen to many of your schedules. And a personal guard will be assigned to you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Jinyoung replies softly.

Desperate to get away from Jinyoung now, Jaebum climbs back up the stairs to the balcony without waiting for the others. Behind him, he hears the shuffle of fabric as the servants disperse.

Roughly Jaebum presses the button to call the lift, and stares at the sleek chrome doors before him with his jaw tense. Now that the shock of seeing Jinyoung is melting away, the inexplicable anger returns.

Jinyoung steps up beside him, glancing around for a moment before leaning in towards Jaebum slightly.

“Hyung?” Jinyoung tries again, quietly, privately, his head tilted to the side like a curious little puppy.

Jaebum can’t bear to look at him. His jaw is clenched so tightly it feels like his whole neck is tensed and frozen, gaze fixed coldly ahead.

“Don’t address me as if we still know each other,” he snaps finally, desperate for Jinyoung to turn his open face away from him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaebum can see Jinyoung recoil at his words. It fills Jaebum with a chilling sense of satisfaction to so affect him. To know he still holds sway over Jinyoung makes Jaebum feel powerful in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. Jaebum is overcome by an urge to lay hands on Jinyoung. Not to strike him, that brings Jaebum no pleasure to think upon. His mind is filled with thought of tearing and rending, of sinking his fingers and teeth into Jinyoung.

So caught up in these images flashing through his mind, Jaebum barely notices when Jinyoung and his companion are herded onto the lift by Bambam. He catches the worried scrunch of Jackson’s eyebrows, leaning into Jinyoung, pressed to his side like a well-trained dog. Their closeness sickens Jaebum, the thought of tearing Jackson from Jinyoung’s side just as appealing as any other.

“Jaebum,” Bambam calls, holding the lift doors open and giving Jaebum a concerned look. “Going up?”

“No,” Jaebum answers, even though he had pressed the button to call the lift, intending to return to his quarters. His body feels rooted in place, and he doesn’t trust himself in such a small space with Jinyoung.

Bambam nods and lets the doors slide shut. “Suit yourself.”

Allowing himself one last look at Jinyoung’s face, Jaebum finds him pale-faced, eyes downcast and unfocused, and then Jaebum is looking at his own reflection in the polished chrome of the lift doors. Frowning, Jaebum cringes away from his own face, looking no better.

As Jaebum waits for the second lift to come down, he feels as if all energy has drained from him. He can’t find the anger that has been burning within him, and the strange sort of hunger he felt earlier has vanished along with Jinyoung. He knows that they are not gone, rather Jinyoung’s presence had fanned the flames, and now Jaebum has burned out. These feelings will return, but for now Jaebum’s head throbs with dull pain, and he shuts his eyes tight against the sight of the city rushing past.

When he gets to his bedroom, a notification lights up his personal tablet, left abandoned on his bed. A senate meeting tomorrow, to discuss flooding in the southern farmlands. Groaning in exhaustion, Jaebum pulls his watch and jacket off, collapsing in bed in his clothes. As if the gods take pity on Jaebum, sleep claims him quickly. But when he sleeps, he dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying so far!


	4. Blight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinyoung attends his first senate meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** warning for mention of animal death (sacrifice) near the beginning of the chapter

Someone comes to Jaebum in his dreams that night, and they look like Jinyoung, eyes deeper and darker than Jaebum has ever seen. They draw Jaebum in and cage him there, gaze trapped on Jinyoung’s face, every detail the same as the ones Jaebum memorized the day before.

“I know what you want,” the voice like Jinyoung’s says, pink lips like Jinyoung’s moving around the words, “and what you think you want. I can give you those things.”

“What can you give me?”

Neat teeth like Jinyoung’s are revealed in a wide cruel smile. “Anything. For a price.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I could give you such power in return for your flesh. Your eyes. Your voice. Your heart.” This Jinyoung is close to Jaebum now, surrounding him and filling his senses. He reaches out a familiar hand and presses it against Jaebum’s chest, above his heart where it pumps and flutters in fear. “I can give you what you want.”

“Jaebum-ssi?”

With a start, Jaebum’s eyes refocus, remembering where he is. His dreams from last night have been plaguing his mind all morning, Jinyoung’s words from the sleeping and waking worlds running through his head.

The minor priest standing before him wrings his hands nervously, head bowed out of respect. “The rites are complete.”

“How many calves?” Jaebum looks past the priest to the senate altar, awash with blood from the sacrifice.

“...four,” the priest answers after an obvious hesitation.

Jaebum sighs, nodding to dismiss the young priest, who hurries back to the others cleaning up. It isn’t unheard of for a second calf to be slaughtered if the first offered any inauspicious tidings. After all, a senate meeting cannot start without a sacrifice, and a reading of the omens.

For months now the flight of the birds has foretold instability, even war, and calves have been cut open only to find their livers blackened with pestilence or hearts pale with disease. It is such an ingrained tradition, many people pay such omens little mind, but for a senate meeting, the clash of wills is only exacerbated by a bad forecast. And so another calf is sacrificed, until one bears good tidings.

Four is getting a bit too many to waste time on before every senate meeting though. Especially as the frequency of these trivial meetings picks up, senators anxious to have their voice heard on every little matter, from civic finance to the increasingly frequent naturally-occuring calamities.

With the emperor due to be out of the city for an extended period of time, Jaebum can only hope the issue doesn’t escalate. It’s really the last thing he needs right now. Looking up to the temple that looms over the forum, Jaebum sends something like a prayer, maybe a plea, an attempt at a bargain, to the god standing victorious in his chariot atop the roof.

The rest of the forum is relatively empty so early in the morning, aside from the priests cleaning up, and a few senators running late. The weak morning light washes out the usually striking colours of the painted statues lining the forum, making the great gods and ancestral benefactors look as deathly pale as a funeral mask. Their neon and gold-leaf accoutrements are no match for the stark light of day. 

Turning away from the somber rows of statues, Jaebum makes his way finally into the senate house. It was built to fit 500, but has rarely been called upon to hold that many people. Jaebum has never bothered to count, but if he were to guess, he’d think the current number of senators sitting is closer to 150. There are even fewer than that who Jaebum sees fit to remember.

The spokesperson perks up when Jaebum steps into the senate house, although most of the senators themselves continue their chatting, gathered in little groups in the galleries. When Jaebum takes his own seat, the spokesperson leans into the microphone on the podium.

“Emperor Park Jinyoung, consul and first in the senate, is preparing for his tour of the provinces and does not attend the senate today. Consul Im Jaebum presides.”

As Jaebum waits for the senators to settle down and get to their seats, he glances about the room coldly. He knows that if he were to turn to his left, he’d find Sungjin standing resolutely off to the side. To Jaebum’s right are two curule chairs like his own, the emperor’s seat in the senate, and on the other side, a seat for the second consul. For the time being, the emperor holds the other consulship, so both sit empty. The three seats are not thrones, yet they are covered in wine purple cushions—the colour of conquerors—and gold leaf is pressed in to their feet and armrests, where they curl up and twine together like flourishing greenery.

The same purple colour slashes across the ankles of the senators about the room, the ends of their long jackets adorned with the mark of senatorial rank. Though their seats are brown wood and wicker, many as old as the senate house itself, they look down at Jaebum from their places, step upon step upwards, with perceived superiority. It seems to Jaebum that the gazes of the senators stay stuck to him more than usual. The eyes watching him make his skin crawl, the familiar itch under his skin like a fuse burning down to an explosion.

The senators who sit close to the front, on the lowest step, are the oldest, or have the most support. Their small side tables have a microphone and camera affixed to it, to broadcast their words to the rest of the senate house without them ever having to stand or raise their voice. They still must stand, out of respect. Every senator is equipped with the ability to make their opinion known in the senate, even if they lack the personal conviction.

Up higher in the gallery, Jaebum spots Mark, jacket draped across the arm of his chair, leaning to look off somewhere among the other senators, his face cool and calculating. Already knowing what he will find, Jaebum follows Mark’s gaze to where Jinyoung sits. He looks unsure and wide-eyed, a lamb thrown to the wolves. Jaebum feels a flare of satisfaction that his guard dog Jackson could not accompany him into the senate house, yet seeing Jinyoung so vulnerable dampens this petty pleasure. Mark isn’t the only senator laying a heavy gaze upon Jinyoung, and Jinyoung’s shoulders seems to bow beneath their weight, examining his tablet carefully to avoid making eye contact.

Seeing how out of place Jinyoung seems in the senate house douses any anger Jaebum might feel to see him there, already dressed in senatorial garb. The burning fury of yesterday seems foolish now, watching Jinyoung’s eyes move across the tablet as he reads, just one of a crowd of ineffectual senators. He has a long way to go before he will ever be a threat to Jaebum. And dealing with the senate always saps Jaebum’s ability to feel anything but mild irritation and disgust.

The Jinyoung from his dreams, powerful and bewitching, waits in the back of his mind, overshadowing his thoughts like storm clouds. Jaebum almost feels mournful for the powerful presence from his dream, and the captivating boy from his youth. This city destroys people, and Jaebum is sure it will ruin Jinyoung the way it ruined him.

“The main matter on the agenda is the flooding in the southern farmlands,” the spokesperson says, now that the hall is in order.

Jaebum leans over to speak into his own microphone, eyes lazily sweeping the assembled senators as he rattles off information in a professionally cold tone. He makes a point of not looking in Jinyoung’s direction. “You may see a few unfamiliar faces among us, as it’s the time of year when new senators are appointed, but their official introduction to the senate will be happening next week as planned, hopefully on a more auspicious day than today. As for the flooding,” Jaebum pauses to check his tablet, the figures just daunting enough to cause a twinge of worry in his stomach, “roughly a quarter of the locally-grown grain is waterlogged. Farmers are trying to salvage what they can, but it could mean a significant dent in the city’s grain supply this coming year. The emperor has put forward no suggested courses of action, he leaves this in your… capable hands.”

Sitting back in his chair, Jaebum lets the senators have a moment to mutter comments to each other and prepare any statements. He has to hold back his contempt for them, but from what he’s heard the past few days, he isn’t as good an actor as he thought. What had Taecyeon said about him? Disinterested? Well, he can hardly deny that, sitting in the senate house full of old wind-bags who still think their opinions have any importance. For such minor matters as this, the emperor gladly lets the senate debate the day away. If it was anything of importance, foreign affairs or where to deploy the army, the emperor would have already made his decision. Jaebum finds it laughable that the emperor continues to indulge these men, when they know as well as he how little their input means.

Yet input they must. What must be hours later, they have finally agreed to send a cohort to assist the farmers, and have moved onto addressing the potential grain shortage the city faces. As is the norm, the more opinionated senators have begun to ignore whose turn it is on the floor, multiple standing at once and shouting over each other.

“We already are operating under a grain shortage from last year’s harvest!” The senator on the floor says, gesturing grandly. “If this goes on, not only will we have no surplus, we won’t even have enough to make it through the season!”

“This goes back to the grain dole,” another says, raising a finger imperiously, “the state simply can no longer afford to support-”

“What are you suggesting?” A voice calls from higher in the gallery.

“The most logical course of action is to lessen the amount of grain handed out to citizens simply for existing-”

“Lessen?” Another senator scoffs, not bothering to stand. “I agree, lessen to nothing!”

Pressing his fingers against his left temple in irritation, Jaebum speaks over them. Despite any mutual dislike, the senators quiet down to listen, knowing the authority he holds.

“As you all know, the grain dole is a very intricate issue, and something the emperor would not want us making any decisions about without him present. What the state can and cannot afford is something he keeps a close watch on,” Jaebum says carefully, keeping his tone professional and dispassionate. Anything for this meeting to end already. “I will, however, take these renewed concerns about the grain dole to the emperor.”

As he finishes speaking, Jaebum risks a glance up towards where Jinyoung sits. He finds Jinyoung’s eyes already on him, an odd sort of look on his face. Like in Jaebum’s dream, Jinyoung’s gaze pulls him in and anchors him there, even across the crowded room. His brow is furrowed in something like confusion, mouth downturned. He looks disappointed, and it cuts Jaebum deeply. When they were boys, Jinyoung used to look at Jaebum like he breathed life into the world, and even after all this time, it hurts Jaebum to think Jinyoung is finally seeing him for what he really is.

It hurts, and that hurt boils down so easily into anger. As the senate house slowly empties, Jaebum sits back in his chair and stews, forcing himself to look away from Jinyoung’s piercing gaze. He hates that Jinyoung is here, no longer the sweet-faced boy who looked at Jaebum with stars in his eyes, but a man, striking in his crisp senatorial garb. It had torn Jaebum apart to leave Jinyoung behind when he moved to the city. Now their lives are being forcibly twisted back together, but Jaebum is still in pieces.

As he always does, Jaebum makes his way quickly through the crowd of senators lingering on the steps outside, letting Sungjin trail after. He tries to drown out any snippets of conversation that come to him, until he hears a familiar voice, and turns to catch sight of Jinyoung again. This time Jinyoung isn’t looking back, engrossed in a conversation with Jackson, who must have been waiting for him outside.

“-and surely surplus can be found in their own kitchens,” Jinyoung is saying quietly, but firmly. “I don’t understand why he didn’t say anything. It would be foolhardy to strike down-”

“Jaebum!” Mark’s voice calls, disturbing his eavesdropping, and Jaebum sneers in irritation.

Any other day, Jaebum would bite back the resentment he always feels after a senate meeting to greet his friend. But today he can’t stand to interact with another person for a moment longer, fury rising even at Mark for simply interrupting.

Pushing roughly through the crowd, Jaebum takes off, leaving Mark standing on the steps of the senate house staring after him. No doubt he isn’t the only one watching, but Jaebum doesn’t turn back as he strides out of the forum as quickly as he can without running. He can’t run through the streets, not Im Jaebum, heir apparent, even as his anger burns in his chest, restless energy coursing through him.

It’s midday and the quickest route to the palace is the busiest, passing the baths and stand after stand of wares for sale. People on the street try to greet Jaebum, but he can’t even fake a smile, jaw clenched so tight it hurts. His mind is abuzz, with Taecyeon and Wooyoung’s words, with the emperor’s doubts, with the meaningful looks of the senators’, with Jinyoung’s.

Jaebum knows he is proving them all right, unable to get his temper under control for long enough to act like he cares about anything. Every failing they see in him laid bare. But this doesn’t stop him, only pulls him deeper down into raw anger, desperate to be back in his room, back where he is alone, and the only eyes to fear are his own in the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again, I know it can get annoying with such long breaks in between chapters. Thank you for reading so far, I hope you've been enjoying it!! I'm jayofdiamonds on twitter too! :)


	5. Pretense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jaebum prepares for a dinner party, he encounters Jinyoung and Jackson in the emperor’s private bathhouse.

The next afternoon Bambam finds Jaebum in the viewing tower that overlooks the soldiers’ training grounds. Jaebum had spent the morning in the darkness of his room, and now the sun is low in the sky, blinding orange light casting long shadows along the ground. Oversleeping makes Jaebum’s head feel heavy and groggy, but the walk to the training grounds renewed him. He feels refreshed at the prospect of not having to deal with Jinyoung or the senate today.

Being among soldiers always put Jaebum at ease, none of the puff-chested posturing of politicians. He knows where he stands with them. They respect him because of his knowledge, his strategic finesse and experience, but they pay him no dues greater than what he is owed. Though Jaebum struggles to find this balance in himself, it reassures him to see that the power and strength of the soldiers do not come at the cost of order or control. The sun glints uniformly off the metal pieces of armour the soldiers are wearing as they move in unison. Jaebum hears the sharp clip of Bambam’s footsteps on the stairs before he enters the room.

“There you are!” Bambam barks when he catches sight of Jaebum. “Thought you could worm your way out of your dinner engagements, huh?”

Jaebum sighs, letting Bambam drag him down the stairs and onto the street, followed at a distance by Sungjin. He’d been hoping to avoid the farewell dinner for the emperor, but he knew it would be futile. At least Mark will be there, so the company won’t be completely intolerable. But knowing Mark, he’ll probably just want to grill Jaebum about Jinyoung.

“I’ve been looking all over,” Bambam grumbles as they make their way back to the palace at a quick pace. “Honestly, the emperor should just keep me on as your handler, the way I always have to-”

“Oh, put a cork in it already, I’m coming now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, thanks to me! You shouldn’t leave it so last minute, you need to take a proper bath,” Bambam starts listing things on his fingers, “and get dressed, and get all done up-”

Bambam seems to realize Jaebum is snidely ignoring him, and he frowns, changing tack.

 “You should be thanking me,” he says under his breath. “Think how it would look if you didn’t show up at this dinner. It’s bad enough you ducked out of showing Jinyoung around the city.”

Jaebum had sent Bambam a swift and harsh reply when he had messaged him earlier this morning about it. The thought of spending that much time with Jinyoung doesn’t sit well with Jaebum acting friendly and welcoming. It’s so easy to pretend Jinyoung hasn’t reentered his life, but it’s impossible when Jinyoung is there before him. Like in Jaebum’s dreams, Jinyoung seems to command his attention whenever he is nearby.

“Why should I be the one responsible for him?” Jaebum scoffs.

“Don’t be so stubborn. It’s not just being responsible, it’s keeping an eye on him. Having an in with him,” Bambam says quietly, mindful of the people milling about on the street, and Sungjin on their heels.

With a sneer, Jaebum rolls his eyes. “He isn’t important enough for me to be courting his favour.”

“We both know that isn’t true. Besides, he’s only going to grow in importance. I had to get Taecyeon to show him around instead of you.”

“So?”

“So, he spent the whole day impressing Taecyeon with his wit and intelligence, and being generally charming. Is that what you want?” Bambam fixes Jaebum with a serious look. “For all the men who were once your allies to be taken in by Park Jinyoung?”

Jaebum stays silent as they approach the palace, mouth set in a firm line of displeasure. The thought of Jinyoung being charming and witty, of men fawning over him, makes Jaebum’s chest burn in anger. And, if he can be honest with himself, it confuses him. Jinyoung was perfectly polite as a child, albeit plagued by the arrogance of youth at times. But he bounced between shy silence and over-exuberant chatter, something that seemed to displease many of the adults they met, especially the men. Jaebum remembers them sneering at Jinyoung’s eagerness, how angry it made him at the time.

The thought that Jinyoung had to change himself to suit the tastes of anyone else fills Jaebum’s chest with a regretful weight, his molten anger firming to heavy rock under the cold rush of realization. But it only makes it so much easier to hate Jinyoung as he is now. The sweet boy Jaebum once knew can remain innocent, cradled in memories and vibrant in his youth. What exists in his place now is nothing but an imposter, posturing like the men in the senate and bewitching Jaebum’s mind with his presence.

Bambam sighs heavily when they reach the palace lifts and Jaebum still hasn’t replied. “Just… You have to at least realize that keeping an eye on him is a good idea.”

“Sure,” Jaebum says dismissively, stepping onto the lift. More than anything, he wants to stop talking about Jinyoung, so he can try to stop thinking about Jinyoung too.

The lift ride up to the emperor’s private baths is short, on a lower floor in the palace for practical, water-piping purposes. The baths are designed like any of the public baths around the city, but with the luxury expected in the palace. Colourful marble with gold leaf edging interspersed with sparkling swirls of mosaic tile in teals and pinks, and painted marble statues lining the edges of murky blue-green pools of water. Jaebum finds the opulence obnoxious, all for nobody but the emperor’s inner circle, but he appreciates the privacy, and the craftsmanship put into it.

Bambam opens his mouth to say something else when they reach the doors to the baths, but Jaebum silences him with a raised hand, yanking one of the doors open with his other hand.

“Thank you,” Jaebum says flatly, closing the door in Bambam’s frowning face. Sighing, he begins to shed his clothes, storing them haphazardly in one of the cubbies in the entry room. Thankfully the other cubbies are empty, and Jaebum can only hope they’ll remain that way so he can bathe in peace. He makes his way through the warm air of the main room into the hot room, sitting on one of the benches lining the walls.

Leaning his head back against the tiled wall, Jaebum pulls a white towel from a nearby pile to drape over his lap. There’s nobody else around, and even if there was, nudity is expected in the bath. But something about sitting slumped in the hot room, always makes Jaebum feel sluggish, like a stuck pig. The least he can do is not have to look down at his own sweating body.

After he’s sweated enough, Jaebum coats his arms with oil and begins scraping it off with the strigil. As much as he usually prefers the speed of the shower in his quarters, there’s something deeply cathartic about scraping the muck and pollution off his skin, sluicing it off with the sweat and oil.

An echo of laughter breaks the empty silence of the bath, startling Jaebum. Cursing, he freezes in place, eyes glued to the doorway. The chatter of two voices grows louder, and Jaebum realizes with a sinking heart that it’s Jinyoung, and Jackson. They don’t come in to the hot room, Jaebum’s straining ears picking up the sound of metal clinking. Perhaps they’re ridding themselves of dirt in the main room, warm enough to open their pores but not so unbearably hot as the room Jaebum is in.

Jaebum can’t hear what they’re saying, besides the laughter that punctuates their words every so often, twisting his stomach into angry knots. He scrapes off what else he can reach with too much force, leaving thick red marks on his skin. The heat of the room he’s in is making him light-headed, and Jaebum realizes he’s going to have to go out into the main room, risking running into Jinyoung and Jackson.

It’s not that he’s afraid, it’s not courage he’s trying to find to leave this room. Rather Jaebum feels the heat of his hatred settle under his skin, beneath the flame-fed heat of the air. What he needs to find is calm. He desperately needs to show Jinyoung how meaningless he is to Jaebum now. That his presence does not threaten Jaebum, or cause anger in him, or anything else.

Wrapping a fresh towel around his waist, Jaebum leaves the hot room, feet padding silently against the tiles. The chatter has died down, and when Jaebum steps into the main room, Jackson is nowhere in sight. The room smells of bath salts and perfumed oils—rose scent, Jaebum thinks, something cloying and heady. Jinyoung stands across the wide pool of water from Jaebum, back turned to him, facing the exit. Without meaning to, Jaebum stops before he sets foot in the pool, not wanting to alert Jinyoung to his presence.

Still feeling sluggish from the hot room, Jaebum’s eyes move slowly down Jinyoung’s body. It had been obvious enough with clothes on, but seeing Jinyoung bared like this makes Jaebum truly realize how different he looks. How much he’s grown. Jinyoung always had a slim waist, but the rest of him had once been built to match, thin chest, and shoulders bowing inwards in shyness.

His shoulders are broad now, arms and legs strong with muscle. Jaebum follows Jinyoung’s spine down to the taper of his waist, gaze lingering on the rosy swell of his ass. If it weren’t for the pink blossoming on Jinyoung’s skin from the heat, Jaebum would think he was a marble statue adorning the edge of the bath, perfectly sculpted to show the male form at its most ideal, at the balance of delicacy and strength.

“Jackson?” Jinyoung calls, startling Jaebum again.

From the cubby room Jackson calls back, “Just coming!”

Using the opportunity, Jaebum slips quietly into the pool, dropping his towel by the side of the water and sitting down on the submerged ledge. There’s no way he can escape without detection, so he may as well not be caught gawping at Jinyoung’s ass. Schooling his face into cold indifference, Jaebum relaxes into the water, throwing his legs open arrogantly and splaying his arms across the lip of the bath, presenting himself with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

Ready to be seen, Jaebum announces his presence by flicking the water, creating a small splash that echoes in the otherwise oppressive silence of the room.

Jinyoung turns to catch sight of Jaebum lounging at the other end of the pool, eyes widening in shock. Jaebum tries not to pay any attention to how Jinyoung’s muscles tense in surprise. With a choked gasp, Jinyoung slips loudly and awkwardly into the bath with a splash, careful not to turn around and show any more of himself to Jaebum. He had always been shy, reluctant to show his body, and Jaebum recognizes the familiar way Jinyoung’s shoulders curl inwards in embarrassment. Even from across the water, Jaebum can see Jinyoung’s ears burn red too, and he manages a smug smile despite his own hot cheeks.

“Jinyoung? What’s wr-” Jackson comes back into the room, making no moves to hide his own nakedness when he catches sight of Jaebum. “Oh.”

Without another word, Jackson pads over to the edge of the bath and slips in beside Jinyoung. Jaebum lets his eyes drift away across the water in feigned disinterest, but he couldn’t help but notice how fit Jackson looked at a glance. A wave of insecurity breaks over Jaebum, thankful his own body is submerged in the murky bathwater up to his shoulders, hidden from sight.

Slowly, Jinyoung turns to lean back against the rim of the pool, and Jaebum returns his gaze to him. His face is a pronounced pink, from the heat or the humiliation, and his dark hair curls sweetly around his face and ears. The skin on show is dewy and glistening from the humidity of the room, and Jaebum feels an insistent pull in his core to touch. Jinyoung looks like a freshly-picked fruit, washed of all impurities, and Jaebum wants to sink his teeth in. Heat curls deep below Jeabum’s stomach, even as his shoulders shiver from an imaginary chill.

As Jaebum watches with a burning gaze, Jackson leans in to whisper something against Jinyoung’s ear, a smile pulling up one side of his mouth. They curl together to avoid being overheard, Jinyoung’s rosy shoulder pressing into Jackson’s chest, damp skin sliding together. Jinyoung smiles at whatever Jackson tells him, eyes squeezing closed in humour, bringing a hand up to hide his laugh. It’s such a familiar sight, Jaebum feels his heart sink.

Jackson takes Jinyoung’s hand in his with a fond grin, as if to expose Jinyoung’s smile for him to see, and Jaebum feels suddenly like they are miles away from him. Both frozen and boiling at once, Jaebum watches them like an outsider, like a servant at his post or statue against the wall. Jaebum burns with the need to have Jinyoung’s eyes on him, and him alone.

By the time Jackson and Jinyoung leave, Jaebum’s fingers are wrinkled like dried fruit, and he feels light-headed, either from the heat of the baths, or the anger. But he could not relent to leaving first, sitting sprawled on the other side of the bath like he is already emperor, like it would be admitting defeat to leave first.

After further whispering between them, Jackson steps out of the bath, water sluicing off the ridges and hard lines of his body. Jaebum turns his gaze away, nose wrinkling in distaste. To his further annoyance, Jackson returns with a towel for Jinyoung, shielding him from Jaebum’s gaze when he stands. With a piercing gaze, Jaebum watches Jinyoung emerge from the scented water, watches how his body moves and sends rivulets of water rushing down his skin. Jackson is close beside him, swooping in with the towel to cover him, bringing it around Jinyoung’s waist. Their hands catch together below Jinyoung’s navel, both pulling the towel to cover him, and Jaebum’s jaw aches from how tensely he’s clenching it.

Then Jinyoung and Jackson leave together, without a backwards glance at Jaebum. Sitting there alone, listening to the distorted echo of them whispering in the entryway as they change, Jaebum feels nothing like an emperor. He feels like the posturing fools he so despises in the senate, faking and feigning for nothing. Jinyoung had barely spared him a glance, and it makes Jaebum furious.

Exhausted from the overly long bath and his anger, Jaebum pulls himself out of the water as soon as he hears the door close behind Jinyoung and Jackson. Sluggishly he slips back into his clothes, realizing he needs to return to his room to change into dinner attire.

“Finally!” Bambam grumbles when Jaebum emerges into the hall, already bustling off to the lifts. “I thought maybe Jinyoung-ssi drowned you in there when he and his friend came out before you! What were you doing, trying to pickle yourself in rosewater?”

Jaebum glowers at Bambam’s back as he follows, resenting his impatience and the snort of amusement Sungjin let out behind him. Tired as he is, head foggy, Jaebum lets it all slide without verbal reprimand.

Seeing Jinyoung so intimately has only fed the flame burning within Jaebum, twisting and all-consuming, something greater than anger. He feels a violent energy thrum beneath the skin of his arms, fighting against the fog clouding his mind and giving him a headache. Jaebum knows he will have to save his energy if he is to make it through the dinner party tonight, so he lets Bambam natter on, setting his face in solemn thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the story is enjoyable so far! Jinyoung will be featuring more heavily from here on :) Please leave a comment if you've been enjoying it, it's very encouraging to know people like the story!


	6. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum attends a dinner party with Mark, and continues to observe Jinyoung and Jackson, who are also in attendance.

Thoughts of Jinyoung sear through Jaebum’s mind all the way to the dinner party, until he spots Jinyoung in the flesh across the dim dining room, and Jaebum’s whole being feels set ablaze by his presence.

Mark sidles over from the bar and lazily hands Jaebum a drink, deep purple and sparkling with dissolved pearls. Careful not to spill his own electric blue drink, Mark reclines on the bench beside Jaebum’s, their heads tucked close together. He takes a pensive sip of his cocktail before placing it on their side table beside Jaebum’s. Delicately he pulls a sheet of pale yellow pills out of his jacket and pushes two pills through the silver foil into his palm, the crinkle a soft noise under the thrum of music.

“So tell me more about your guest at the palace,” Mark says finally, dropping one pill in his drink and holding the other out for Jaebum to take.

Through the pink smog hanging low around their heads and the scantily clad bodies of the entertainers dancing, Jaebum watches Jinyoung. Unaware, Jinyoung is busy laughing at something his trained dog is saying, forehead resting against Jackson’s temple, their hands tangled together in the bowl of dark grapes between them. Jaebum’s eyes haven’t left the sight since they sat down.

Jacket hanging off the edge of his bench, Jinyoung’s loose robe falls into the slopes of his figure as he lies on his side, getting tugged tighter against his body when he twists and turns in outbursts of laughter. Now that Jaebum has seen Jinyoung bared, something is maddening about the way his body moves under the fabric of his robe. Jaebum’s gaze catches often on the slimness of Jinyoung’s waist, the soft press of his thighs against each other, and a desire burns within him, to reach all the way across the room and touch. To hold Jinyoung’s body hard enough to darkly bruise his skin, to dig his fingers into his soft fat, to sink his teeth in and tear his skin and taste his blood and rip his throat out.

“Jaebum.” Mark flicks his cheek impatiently, waving the pill on front of his eyes.

Focus broken, Jaebum tears his gaze from Jinyoung’s perfect white teeth and the folds of skin around his eyes as he laughs to snatch the pill irritably from between Mark’s sweaty fingers. The bold pinks and purples around Jinyoung’s eyes have already melted from the heat of the room, smeared down to his cheekbones, and Jaebum’s sure his own facepaint has fared no better.

“It’s half melted from your hands,” Jaebum complains around the pill now resting on his tongue, tasting the chalky sweet flavour underneath the nasty salt left from Mark’s fingers. Across the room Jinyoung leans over to fix his trailing jacket and the back of his neck glistens with sweat too, making Jaebum press his tongue more insistently against the roof of his mouth to trap the taste there, jaw jutting out.

Mark downs the rest of his drink in one go, not bothering to mix in the powdery yellow film resting on top from the pill. “That’s your own fault man. You gonna tell me about him or not? After you practically _ran_ from me last senate meeting.”

“Huh?” Jaebum’s head twitches over towards Mark like he means to look at him, but he’s too preoccupied to bother. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

“I hear he fainted taking the palace lift up for the first time,” Mark offers, still trying to maintain a conversation. Luckily he’s too busy watching the dancers to notice where Jaebum’s gaze is fixed.

“He’s a country boy,” Jaebum says dismissively, not listening close enough to let the words sink in. His mind is caught up in following Jinyoung’s neat fingers as he pops a couple grapes in his mouth, pliant pink lips closing around them to suck the wetness off. Caught up in watching Jinyoung’s dark eyes sparkle as brightly as the make-up adorning them, despite the dull lighting of the room.

“I guess he’s never been in a building taller than three storeys,” Mark scoffs quietly, searching pointedly through the crowd now. “So which one is he?”

There’s plenty of young men around the room that could pass for the emperor’s new heir. Mark would know the handful of fresh-faced politicians, but there’s just as many boys present that he doesn’t know. Sons, nephews, flavours of the week, and hangers-on of the old men putrefying atop their benches.

“Directly across the room from us.”

Mark pauses, waiting for the dancers to part again, the pink smoke swirling as they turn, clinging to their clothes. “With the light brown hair?”

“That’s his companion,” Jaebum says, feeling the haze of the pill he swallowed earlier take hold of his mind. Lazily, he glances at Jackson, face animated and arms gesticulating, far too wild for so early in the evening, exposed chest gleaming with sweat. “Jinyoung is the one he’s talking to. Darker hair. White robe.”

“Oh?” Mark’s eyes drop appreciatively over Jinyoung’s body. “He _is_ young. I thought he was someone’s well-kept boy looking like that.”

Though his limbs feel heavy and numbed by his high, Jaebum feels a sudden ferocious need to force Mark’s gaze away from Jinyoung. It simmers in him, making his tired eyes burn in exhaustion, but he does nothing. He can’t stand the thought of Mark looking at Jinyoung and seeing him, appraising him, forming thoughts about him. The entire city must be abuzz with rumours about Jinyoung, churning and changing, and finally Jaebum tears his gaze away from Jinyoung and Jackson to glance about the room. It’s then he catches the pointed looks at Jinyoung, the murmurs behind raised palms, and it makes Jaebum’s stomach turn.

Jaebum wants the gossiping men to choke on their tongues, to be struck blind and punished for looking upon Jinyoung. He wants to fly across the room and envelope Jinyoung, to consume him until he exists only as a part of Jaebum, and people cannot tell them one from the other. Like it’s something he’s forgotten, it dawns on Jaebum that having these politicians and philosophers and writers, the whole city, focused on Jinyoung puts him at a disadvantage. He’d gotten so wrapped up in Jinyoung and every emotion he’d sparked, Jaebum had forgotten once again what is at stake.

“What have you heard about him?”

“Plenty.” Mark shrugs, signalling for food to be brought to them as plates begins to circulate the room. “Hard to find someone who doesn’t want to talk about the new heir. I hate to say it, but what popularity you had left is taking a serious nosedive.”

“He arrived in the city not two days ago,” Jaebum hisses, burning eyes trained back on Jinyoung across the room. “What has he done to impress the senate but sit silently?”

Mark examines the platter of food set before them, picking at the thick slices of fat-marbled meats glinting with gold leaf and laughing at Jaebum’s expense. “They _like_ that. Him sitting there, eager as a puppy, but without opinions or convictions? You know how these old bags are, they love that he’s a country simpleton. A good, wholesome, easy-to-control boy like him? As long as they’re the ones in control, they want him.”

Jaebum scoffs. Jinyoung may have sat silently in the senate meeting, but something tells him that the obedient and easily influenced Jinyoung of the past is gone. If he sees fit to start voicing his opinions in senate meetings, it could bring trouble for either one of them. No matter how unsure of himself Jinyoung had looked in the palace lobby or the senate house, now, in the relaxed setting of the dinner party, Jaebum remembers how adaptable and quick to learn Jinyoung had always been.

As Jaebum watches, Jinyoung and Jackson are also brought at plate of food. Anger curdles Jaebum’s stomach to see Jackson choose a slice of red meat and offer it for Jinyoung to take into his mouth. Smiling indulgently, Jinyoung takes it, wiping delicately at the edges of his lips as he chews. Their intimacy makes angry words burn unsaid in Jaebum’s throat like alcohol, and he tosses his drink back finally, hoping a passing servant will take that as a cue for a refill.

“He’s going to replace the emperor as consul when his term is up,” Jaebum says finally to Mark. It isn’t a secret, but it feels like a private weight that has been sitting in Jaebum’s heart like a stone. “That’s as good as naming him the heir.”

“It’s not. Could be worse,” Mark speaks around his food. “He could be replacing _you_ as consul. But you’re right to a certain extent. Even with your political experience, you’ll essentially be equals when you both hold a consulship. You need to be careful, Jaebum. And eat, you’ve been looking peaky lately.”

With a frown at Mark, Jaebum takes a piece of meat from their platter and drags it through one of the dishes of rich sauce in the centre before popping it in his mouth. The meat melts in Jaebum’s mouth with the cool slide of the gold, and he turns his eyes back to Jinyoung. He’s still smiling, hand brought up to cover his mouth now, and once again Jaebum feels the distance between them keenly. Like in the baths, seeing Jackson holding that place beside Jinyoung, whispering and laughing together, makes Jaebum feel untethered, drifting. His place in this city that he fought so hard for, respected as senator, consul, the emperor’s hier, feels worthless compared to Jackson’s place beside Jinyoung, so close to the rays of light spilling from him.

But he can’t think that way. Jinyoung has bewitched Jaebum, pulled his focus from all that is important in his life. After everything he sacrificed to get to where he is, after all his struggles, Jaebum can’t let Jinyoung distract him. He still makes sacrifices, still struggles, and it infuriates Jaebum that Jinyoung can come into his city and already be favoured by the men Jaebum worked so hard to gain the approval of. If Jaebum continues to indulge this growing obsession with Jinyoung, it will only be to Jinyoung’s advantage. And there is nothing that angers Jaebum more than the idea of him being cast aside for Jinyoung to become emperor. It’s fear that fuels this anger, but Jaebum has never cared for delving beneath the surface of his emotions.

“You asked me which one he was, but you were staring at him during the senate meeting yesterday,” Jaebum says suddenly, the words barely passing through his mind before he’s speaking them aloud.

Startled, Mark glances over wide-eyed and shrugs. “I was wondering who he was. Usually you have some idea who the new senators coming in are, but I didn’t recognize him. Besides, just look at him. Who isn’t staring?”

The same sick feeling returns to Jaebum’s stomach at the thought of so many eyes on Jinyoung. He tries to convince himself it’s a purely political jealousy, that it’s only his sudden disadvantage that is feeding his anger. Jaebum remembers when they were boys, how his temper flared whenever Jinyoung was paid too much attention. But it never mattered that much then, because Jinyoung’s own eyes rarely ever left Jaebum. Now they are caught on Jackson, on this usurper of Jaebum’s rightful place. And Jinyoung seems oblivious now of the attention he used to preen under, as if he hasn’t even noticed the burning force of Jaebum’s eyes on him all evening.

Jinyoung always used to thrive under people’s attention like a flower blooming prettily for the sun, where Jaebum only wilted and twisted under the harsh glare of light. With a hollow feeling curling in his chest, Jaebum wonders for the first time whether Jinyoung would make a better emperor than him. Has Jaebum become too jaded? Too hardened by the ways of the city? He has become like fields drying up under a drought, crops singed by the heat of his anger and bitterness. Jinyoung is still soft, in so many ways, still boyish and curious. Still dazzling when he smiles and laughs as if every eye ought to be watching him. He still flourishes with life and liveliness, and Jaebum feels dizzy from it as he watches from across the room.

Just as much a stranger as every other man there.

“You really think…” Jaebum takes a breath, stomach fluttering in fear at showing any vulnerability, even to Mark. “You think there’s still hope? That I…”

“I think,” Mark interrupts gently, pushing the platter closer to Jaebum, “that you should eat more than one piece of meat, Im Jaebum. And enjoy the party. This isn’t the place to discuss all this. Let’s breakfast together tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jaebum breaths out, trying to settle himself.

As if he understands Jaebum’s turmoil, Mark steers the conversation to less world-stopping gossip, whispering to Jaebum about other senator’s affairs with a sharp-toothed grin. Smiling distractedly, Jaebum passes the rest of the dinner in a haze. The emperor stands near the end of the night, supported by a servant and stumbles drunkenly through a rousing speech, ended by raucous cheers and shouts from just as inebriated guests.

Feeling as movable as stone, Jaebum watches from where he lounges on his bench as senators are helped out of the hall. Beside him, he barely registers Mark sitting up and chatting to another guest. As wildly animated as Jackson had seemed whenever Jaebum bothered to glance at him, he seems steady and sober now, holding a rosy-cheeked Jinyoung round the waist. Jackson smiles fondly as Jinyoung rises, unsteady, a hand clutching at one of Jackson’s shirt lapels for support.

Jaebum’s eyes dart between their hands where they’re caught up in each other, Jinyoung’s twisting into the loose fabric barely covering Jackson’s chest, Jackson’s cutting strongly into the shape of Jinyoung’s robe at his waist as he pulls Jinyoung closer against him. They press together and Jinyoung tips his head into Jackson’s neck, making Jackson jostle him with a laugh that carries across the emptying room.

They filter out after the other leaving guests, still clinging to each other. Jaebum hadn’t seen Jinyoung drink that much, but he seems to sway as he walks, cheeks flushed with merriment. Like lightning breaking through his body, Jaebum looks back up to their faces to realize Jackson’s eyes meet his. Jinyoung seems far too preoccupied with setting his feet where they ought to go to see where Jackson is looking.

Jackson’s gaze is unfathomable, dark and stormy, face set firm. It feels like a warning, and Jaebum matches it with one of his own, eyes narrowing venomously, lip pulled up in a cruel sneer. When Jackson looks away first, turning back to Jinyoung, it feels less like a competition won, and more like a dismissal.

When the room is emptied of most others, Jaebum lurches up from his bench like a creature’s shudders after death, startling Mark.

“Good night,” he mumbles unsteadily to Mark, feeling drained of all emotion or coherent thought, floating high on his inebriation and exhaustion.

“Good night,” Mark offers quietly, matching Jaebum’s tone.

Jaebum is grateful Mark knows him well enough to let him go without a remark or hand outstretched in assistance, although he’s sure it’s with a worried look Mark watches him leave. Alone, Jaebum makes his way back to his quarters, where he falls into a fitful sleep, mind full to overflowing with Jinyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with the story this far!! Please leave a comment if you've been enjoying it, I also have a twitter & curious cat under the same username (JayofDiamonds) if you're shy :)


	7. Companion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebum meets Mark and Bambam for breakfast, and encounters Jackson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very very long wait!! I was busy working on my fic for the got7 tarot fest (as I still am), and I really need to be in a specific headspace to write this! I noticed someone was recommending this fic to people on curious cat & wanted to say thank you, I’m very flattered! 
> 
> um warnings for mentions of murder I guess? nobody actually does anything though

“Why haven’t you given yourself over to me?”

Jinyoung’s dark eyes bore into Jaebum, pinning him down and stealing the breath from his lungs. He’s close, the heady memory of the rosewater from the baths burning under Jaebum’s nose. Nothing else seems to exist around them as Jinyoung leans in towards Jaebum.

Tipping his head down, Jaebum watches Jinyoung’s pink lips move as he speaks again, voice dipping low and suggestive.

“Aren’t you already desperate to be under me?” 

Jinyoung’s lips curl up in a deceptively sweet smile. If Jaebum were to look up into Jinyoung’s eyes, he knows he would find venom there.

“Just give in.”

Jaebum wakes with a start, choking on his breath as he tries to gulp in air. His sheets are caught in a damp sweaty tangle around his legs, constricting his movements, tripping him up as he scrambles to get out of bed. He lands on the ground beside his bed with a thud, then Jaebum rolls over onto his back, chest heaving, the initial panic seeping out of him. 

There’s no question, Jinyoung has infected Jaebum’s mind, racing through his thoughts like wildfire consumes crops and debilitates cities. And it’s not only Jinyoung. The image of Jinyoung in Jackson’s strong arms is branded so hotly into Jaebum’s mind he can’t be sure what parts are real and what parts come from his dreams.

It’s easier for Jaebum to think of Jinyoung not as a person, but an object to be fought over. Jinyoung is a marble statue of a god, an idol expertly crafted to be perfect, made to be worshipped. Jinyoung is a servant boy, soft and supplicating, obedient and objectified. An object to be lost and won, treasured and fought over. And if Jinyoung is an object, Jackson is the one who possesses him now.

And it’s easier for Jaebum to hate Jackson, than to hate Jinyoung. He doesn’t know Jackson except as an adversary, someone who touches Jinyoung the way Jaebum once did. A usurper. If Jaebum lingers too long on the thought, he knows he left the throne empty for Jackson to come in and claim like a conquering force. He left Jinyoung, all those years ago, when he came to the city to learn under the emperor.

Still lying on the floor, legs tangled up on the bed, Jaebum chases that train of thought as he tries to even his breathing. Leaving Jinyoung had been a sacrifice, Jaebum can admit that much. But it was one Jaebum had willingly made for the emperor, and for the state. To think this sacrifice might have been in vain; leaving Jinyoung, letting the city twist and corrupt Jaebum with its pollution and politics. Only for the emperor to change his mind now, and decide Jinyoung is the better man for the job after all. 

What does Jinyoung know? Nothing.

Jinyoung will never have the experience Jaebum has, the connections. Even if the senators like him more than Jaebum now, it will soon change. The old men are as fickle as they are self-serving. It won’t take long before Jinyoung unwittingly steps out of line and displeases them. 

Some small part of Jaebum, buried deep in the dark, wants to protect Jinyoung from all this. The city is a foul place, Jaebum has always maintained. His own childhood with Jinyoung was carefree and beautiful, lit with the sun as its beams dapple through tree canopies, enveloped in the sounds of laughter and the smell of fruit and flowers. Coming to the city was like a fall from grace, plunging down into the murky waters of ambition and politics. And for Jaebum, loneliness. 

But Jinyoung has Jackson, so perhaps he isn’t worth Jaebum’s pity after all. 

Jaebum’s tablet beeps insistently at him, startling him from his thoughts, and he realizes it’s been making noises for a while now. With a groan, he heaves himself off the floor to reach for it. Mark has been messaging him.

_Let me up._

_Jaebum? Breakfast, remember?_

_We can have it in your quarters._

_Bambam’s here too now._

Sighing, Jaebum presses his fingers against his brow to settle the crease that had formed there as he let his mind linger on Jinyoung. Of course, he had agreed to breakfast with Mark last night. Perhaps finally he will get a grasp on what’s going on.

After sending a quick response to Mark, and a request for breakfast in his quarters, Jaebum gets unsteadily to his feet and moves into his bathroom. Arms moving automatically, he splashes water over his face and then his hair, ruffling it out of his face. In the mirror, his eyes are bloodshot, the skin around them dry and discoloured. It’s always felt like this to look into the mirror, for as long as he’s lived in the city. Something like a husk of a man looks back, dead-eyed and sallow-skinned, and Jaebum imagines the weight of his headache manifesting like a twisting storm cloud around his head. But it doesn’t matter—he’s used to it now. 

Jaebum pulls a robe over his rumpled sleep pants as he passes back through his room and opens the door to the balcony that wraps around the building. It’s broad, supported by the wider floor below, so Jaebum can avoid sitting too close to the edge. From the ground, the tall shard of the palace rends through the sky, but when he’s up at the top, the air seems so thin Jaebum sometimes feels faint from it. The rest of the city falls flat and unreal in its blazing lights and rushing movements, like a mosaic to be walked upon, and green and gold swaths of countryside glimmer in the distance. The view of a god.

There is plenty of space inside Jaebum’s quarters to entertain personal guests, but Jaebum needs to clear his head. Get fresh air, no matter how thinned. See birds fly by. He doesn’t know how to read their flight patterns, to tell what omens they bring. But some small part of Jaebum that remains optimistic likes to think of every bird in flight as a sign of good fortune for the day.

The food arrives, an array of breakfast foods spread on the low table that Jaebum finds he cannot stomach just yet. Mark and Bambam arrive shortly after, and the three of them recline together on the benches around the table. 

Insufferably, Mark looks as healthy and well-rested across from Jaebum as a man returned from a country retreat, casually choosing an orange from the display and beginning to peel it. Bambam’s gaze flits between the two of them, but wisely keeps his mouth full of food rather than idle chatter.

Though Jaebum’s skin burns with the itch to begin the conversation, he busies himself toying with the grapes in his hand, not eating them, waiting for Mark to speak. Finally, he does.

“So. Jinyoung.” Mark’s gaze flicks up to Jaebum, steady and unreadable. “Jaebum, last night you asked me what I heard. But what about you? What do you know?”

“He’s here to replace me,” Jaebum replies immediately.

Mark’s expression is unchanging, but Bambam’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Is he?”

“Of course he is,” Jaebum snaps, turning to assess the depths of Bambam’s shock. “Why else would the emperor bring him here?”

“You mean replace you as heir?” Bambam shakes his head in disbelief. “That can’t be it. Maybe the emperor just missed his nephew?”

“They barely know each other!” Jaebum bites back.

Even Mark looks skeptical of Bambam’s suggestion. “Besides, if the purpose was for the emperor to see his nephew, he’d hardly invite him to the city just as he’s leaving on a tour of the provinces.”

“Wouldn’t he tell you if something was going on?” Bambam readjusts his weight, sitting up to gesticulate more emphatically. “If he was unhappy with your progress?”

Jaebum leans back on his elbow with a huff, popping a few grapes in his mouth finally. 

“Look, it’s like I said last night, I think this situation is… delicate,” Mark begins carefully, eyes moving as he follows his train of thought. “It’s obvious the emperor has something greater in mind for his nephew than just a personal visit. He’s going to become consul, he has _schedules_. But it seems like he’s hedging his bets right now. Jaebum. If you were truly out of favour, you would know. You would be _out_. The emperor may enjoy keeping people on their toes, but he wouldn’t risk keeping you around if he had already made his decision. Not with your temper.”

“Then he’s just toying with me.”

“He’s _testing_ you.”

“Am I not past such childish tests?” Jaebum’s anger flares, frustrated at Mark’s level-headedness. Mark is one of Jaebum’s most loyal friends in the city, how can he be so cool in the face of Jaebum losing everything he has worked for?

“Jinyoung doesn’t seem that bad-” Bambam offers feebly.

“I know,” Mark interrupts. “That’s the problem.”

“I need to be rid of him,” Jaebum says under his breath. With the emperor out of the city, how easy it would be to do away with the test forced upon Jaebum. Jinyoung is not yet so popular that senators would mourn him.

“Rid?” Bambam repeats quietly, eyebrows scrunching together in concern. “You can’t mean… You intend to _do_ something to him?”

“Of course,” Jaebum answers, all false confidence. He’s still reeling from Jinyoung’s presence in his city, in his life again and in his dreams, but Jaebum burns with the need to do _something_. Jinyoung cannot be left untouched.

Mark opens his mouth to interject, but Bambam barrels on ahead.

“Like what? Poison?”

“You take me for a cowardly poisoner?” Jaebum barks back. The thought leaves him cold, to offer Jinyoung such a petty unimportant death. The only way Jaebum can think to stand it is if he himself was the poison rushing through Jinyoung’s veins and wreaking havoc on his body, delving deep enough to stop his heart. To hold Jinyoung’s hotly beating heart in his hands and squeeze until it bursts and indelibly stains Jaebum.

“It would be too risky to do anything else,” Bambam says with a frown. 

“He’s right,” Mark adds when Jaebum doesn’t answer, dipping a piece of bread languidly into the pot of golden honey between them. “You shouldn’t be indulging your anger here, the stakes are too high. His popularity is greater than yours right now.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jaebum grumbles.

“How can the senate support him already?” Bambam asks, leaning in curiously. “They hardly know him at all!”

“They know he sits silently and listens, and that’s all they care to know,” Mark says dismissively.

“Maybe he’s just getting the lay of the land,” Bambam protests, turning to give Jaebum a significant look. “You know, Taecyeon says Jinyoung-ssi reminds him of you when you first came to the city. If he _is_ anything like you were, he’ll be a right pain in the ass for the old geezers in no time.”

“Like me?” Jaebum feels the flash of instinct telling him to reject the idea, scorn the very thought. Yet some part of him latches onto it in curiosity. How are they alike? Simple coincidence? An enduring kinship? Or perhaps Jinyoung looked up to Jaebum more than he realized when they were younger. Either way it is no longer true. Jaebum is nothing like the boy he was when he arrived in the city, and so he is no longer anything like Jinyoung. Just the thought of the foolish youth he was, full of grand plans of change and reform, is enough to turn Jaebum’s stomach.

“He’s naive if he thinks it’ll be easy,” Jaebum says suddenly, startling Mark and Bambam. “Laughing and… and consorting with that companion of his, like they’re on holiday.”

Mark gives Jaebum a look of mild skepticism. “You have an issue with his companion now too?” His eyes flicker off somewhere behind Jaebum. “Him?”

Feeling a flash of fear, Jaebum twists around in his seat. Far out of earshot, just where the balcony begins to curve around the building and out of sight, Jackson sits alone before another table. 

“What is he doing here?” Jaebum spits, eyes not leaving the intruding presence.

“This balcony connects to Jinyoung-ssi’s quarters too,” Bambam supplies easily.

“Should I go over and introduce myself?” Mark asks, showing his sharp teeth in a teasing grin. “Ask him to join us?”

Bambam cranes his neck to look over. “I wonder where Jinyoung-ssi is?” 

“Maybe they’re having a lover’s spat.”

“ _Lovers?_ ” Jaebum barks, incredulous. 

“You don’t think?” Mark raises a brow challengingly. “It’s usually what people mean when they say “companion”. You saw them last night at dinner.”

“In the baths together,” Bambam adds, blinking in curiosity. He must have seen them leaving together as he waited for Jaebum.

The look Mark is giving Jaebum is not so innocent, a newfound knowledge shining in his narrowed eyes. He chooses his words to goad, and Jaebum can tell. “All over each other.”

Jaebum grits his teeth together so hard pain shoots down his jaw like he’s been punched. 

“Well, why don’t I go over and ask?” Mark says, and then before Jaebum can object, he’s standing and making his way over to Jackson.

From afar, Jaebum and Bambam can’t hear their exchange, but as they watch intently, Jackson glaces over and locks eyes with Jaebum for a moment. Jaebum sees the same hard look, the same challenge in Jackson’s eyes as the night before. Then he looks away with an easy grin, back up at Mark. It’s so dismissive, the way you look away from a servant when they have finished performing their duties.

Feeling rage propelling him into motion like a flame beneath boiling water, Jaebum surges out of his seat, and strides over to Jackson and Mark. He feels ambushed, caught in his once-private space, in nothing but his sleep pants and a robe, exposing himself to the chilled air and the judgement of Jackson’s withering gaze.

Mark has already sat to join Jackson by the time Jaebum reaches them, and Jackson looks up at Jaebum as he’s popping a few grapes lazily in his mouth. Not too close, but within earshot, Jaebum stands apart from them, like he would not dream of joining them. As if they, like the rest of the city, are far below him.

“What are you doing out here?” Jaebum asks like it’s an order, squaring his shoulders beneath the thin fabric of his robe.

“Having breakfast,” Jackson says after swallowing. “I didn’t realize your quarters were attached too, the balcony must wrap around.”

“I’ve never seen Jinyoung out here.”

“Oh, he’s still not used to being this high off the ground.” Jackson dips his head down to let a small private smile cross his lips before fixing his eyes on Jaebum again. “Besides, I’ve never seen _you_ out here since we arrived either.”

Jackson’s nonchalance gets under Jaebum’s skin like a thorned vine, so he strides over to stand looming over Jackson, face dark with angry displeasure. “Is this how he’s told you to behave in my presence?”

“What do you want me to do, bow?” Jackson looks up with a lackadaisical smile, like he finds Jaebum a funny little thing. “You aren’t the emperor yet.”

With a huff, Jaebum sits down heavily on the divan across from Jackson. At least if Jackson won’t stand out of respect, Jaebum will be sitting too. 

“You aren’t at all what I was expecting,” Jackson offers casually after a short silence.

Jaebum’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he tries to arrange himself casually on the divan to appear uncaring.

“The way Jinyoung always spoke of you… well, it’s a bit of a disappointment to know the real thing doesn’t measure up,” Jackson says, pretty brown eyes pinning Jaebum in place, but he doesn’t say it cruelly. “I always thought this Im Jaebum he spoke of was too good to be true. I think he’s a little embarrassed, now, for me to see you like this.”

“Like what?” Jaebum snaps, instantly acutely aware of every imperfection on his body, from his dry and tired eyes to where the skin of his stomach folds, exposed by his robe. Every invisible imperfection too. He feels wilted, ashamed, that Jinyoung might be disappointed. It’s unsurprising, but in their youth, Jinyoung had always been endlessly generous in overlooking Jaebum’s faults.

“What did he say…?” Jackson sits in silence for a moment. “So unlike yourself. A shadow of how you once were. Something like that.”

Jaebum tries to tear himself away from his self-pity. Who is Jinyoung to judge the kind of man Jaebum has grown into? Jaebum wishes he could say Jinyoung’s opinion means nothing to him and have it be the truth. Yet he lies. “I am the same as I always was.” 

“I hope for Jinyoung’s sake that isn’t true,” Jackson replies lowly, and it feels like his eyes can see more of Jaebum than what is on display. 

“Why for his sake?” Mark asks suddenly, eyes calculating, quiet voice startling Jaebum.

Jackson rolls his shoulders back, fierce gaze mellowing into a thoughtful expression as he considers his words. “Well, Jinyoung and Jaebum-ssi will be spending a lot more time together in the future, won’t they?”

“Will we…?” Jaebum mumbles, confused. 

“According to his schedules, yes,” Jackson says with a little shrug. “Just this afternoon you’ll be performing the annual sacrifice and ritual for the health of the crops. With the emperor out of the city, and the recent flooding, I’m sure the people will be better assured of the ceremony’s success if it’s attended by both of you.” 

“Both of us _what_?” Jaebum prompts, hoping to hear some confirmation of Jinyoung’s status as heir. Does Jinyoung know what he’s here for? He must. But Jaebum wants to hear the words from Jackson’s mouth.

“Both of you… capable young men in the emperor’s favour,” Jackson answers carefully, eyes twinkling like he knows he’s dodging Jaebum’s trap. “I’m sure the emperor would like to see you both become just as favoured by the public.”

“Certainly if the senate doesn’t like them, somebody had better,” Mark says wryly, prompting a little smile from Jackson.

“Exactly.”

“You anticipate Jinyoung-ssi being disliked by the senate then?”

“Well he doesn’t like them very much,” Jackson replies, still smiling easily.

“I’ve heard enough,” Jaebum grits out, rising quickly enough to make his head spin. Vision still dark, Jaebum turns to stalk back into his room, robe stirred by the wind as he goes. 

Jaebum feels drained. Last night’s fervour and fury seems like a dream, leaving behind the dregs of desperation, weighing Jaebum down, making his steps slow and head heavy. As much as it would have dizzied Jaebum to encounter Jinyoung up here, Jackson is no better. His presence presses Jaebum further from Jinyoung still, the way he talks of Jinyoung so fond and _knowing_. 

This Jinyoung of convictions and opinions is foreign to Jaebum. As a boy he had been Jaebum’s shadow, turning his face like a flower to Jaebum’s sun, stumbling after him. And Jaebum had treasured his friend, but there was little Jinyoung did of his own accord, little he said or thought that was not first said or thought by Jaebum. 

If Jinyoung is no longer a twisting sun-chasing flower, then perhaps he has truly changed. So bitingly critical of the sun his world once revolved around. The thought sickens Jaebum, but perhaps he doesn’t know Jinyoung anymore. Perhaps his Jinyoung is truly no longer his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Hopefully there won't be as long a wait for chapter eight, as we should finally have some proper jjp interactions next chapter!!


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